The Doom of Destiny
by SkyeFurieX
Summary: Mordred is now a knight of Camelot. As Merlin continues to protect her future with King Arthur, his queen Guinevere, and his knights of the Round Table, she finds herself torn between securing Mordred's fate or allowing him to choose his own destiny once and for all. AU Season 5 BECAUSE THE FINALE RUINED MY LIFE AND MUST BE REMEDIED AT ONCE.
1. A Shadow To Come

The Doom of Destiny

Disclaimer: I own nothing. Except my laptop, who is named Sherly.

Soundtrack: Skyfall by Adele

I saw _Skyfall_ recently with my boyfriend, and I just thought; dang, this song really is meant for this story. So yeah. Go listen to that before reading, if you want. I just felt it went really well with the plotline and what I have planned for fem!Merlin and Mordred :D

Author's Note: Fem!Merlin, Fem!Merlin/Mordred (eventually), Arwen, eventual magic reveal. Set after 5X02, will follow series 5 vaguely.

In this fic, Merlin is a bit spunkier and sharper than the show – plus I feel, like Morgana, Fem!Merlin would have a more maternal/sisterly/protective attitude toward Mordred when they first met.

Also, in this fic, Merlin will have a closer relationship with the knights – I think they'd view her as a witty, spunky little sister and would love having her around, despite being a servant. I think they'd be very protective of her, as well. Arthur would definitely think of her as his little sister; although he would refuse to admit it, even under pain of death XD

Hey guys! I know this is really really short, but it's just a teaser I knocked together to keep you wolves appeased while I get Chapter One ready for the big bad internet! (Nearly ready, aww yus!) Enjoy!

* * *

_I will never forgive, Emrys, and I will never forget._

As Mordred vanished into the mist and the trees, Merlin felt her heart sink. She had foiled him for now – but at what cost?

She felt terrible for trying to stop him, and yet a part of her knew the Great Dragon would commend her for trying; for accepting his predictions. It was with a heavy heart that she turned back to find Arthur; the visions of the Great Dragon's wrath and his vengeance on Camelot flashing before her eyes.

Who knew what the future would bring.


	2. A Staircase and a Dragon

**Disclaimer: I don't own BBC's Merlin, or the legends. Though, they are pretty awesome.**

**Hey, guys! Sorry this has been so long in coming, but I hope you guys enjoy the first proper chapter of my first Merlin fanfic! I'm a huge Merlin fan, but this is my first attempt to write proper fanfiction in this world, so let me know if I get anything wrong - currently only have the first four series on dvd.**

**Anyway, please enjoy!**

* * *

It had been three weeks.

Three weeks since Mordred had taken his place at the Round Table. Three weeks since he had betrayed Morgana and turned to Arthur. Three weeks since she had discovered Arthur's Bane.

And Mordred had not spoken to her with his mind once.

Merlin couldn't quite figure out why this bothered her – it made perfect sense; after all, she had more-or-less threatened him right after his knighting ceremony. If he still considered himself her enemy, then he wouldn't waste energy idly chatting to her – he would be focusing on a plot to secure Arthur's doom.

And yet, a small part of her wanted to believe what he had said to her – that he truly had chosen Arthur over Morgana and was on their side. Someone she could rely on.

Merlin couldn't deny that having an ally in Camelot who knew about her magic would be useful – especially a knight, and Mordred had magical talents of his own. But the question remained; could she trust him?

"Keep up, _Merlin_, we're not out for a stroll!" The king of Camelot barked. "It may have escaped your notice, but I have knights to train! _Preferably_ before sundown!"

Jolting out of her musings, Merlin rolled her eyes at the clotpole and quickened her pace, struggling with the multitude of armour she was carrying.

"Terribly sorry, Your Royal Pratness, I was just admiring the view," she quipped snarkily. "And – although I doubt you've thought of this with that thick head of yours – but has it occurred to you that if you'd put your armour on first, I wouldn't have to carry it, and thus, waste some of your terribly precious time?"

Arthur shot her a look of feigned surprise, before turning and striding down the steps into the great courtyard.

"Why, Merlin – do you actually think I'd make life easier for you?"

"I know, sire, the very idea is preposterous," she deadpanned. The king chuckled as he wandered down the steps ahead of her; the castle staff and guards going about them, subtly shaking their heads in amusement at the louder than necessary quips between the king and his maidservant.

"So, _Merlin_, what's got your head in the clouds?"

"I doubt that you'd care, King Clotpole," Merlin called, just reaching the top of the stone staircase herself.

_Emrys._

It seemed dreadfully ironic that the subject of her intense internal arguments spoke into her head just as she tried to ignore him.

Merlin couldn't help but start; the shock of having a velvet voice resonate inside her mind, scattering her thoughts was one she had forgotten. It seemed only natural that she should stumble and lose her balance. And, being who she was, Merlin resigned herself to tumbling past Arthur, clattering loudly down the rough stone steps to land in an aching, grumbling heap on the cobbles, armour ringing and scattered about her.

She groaned. She was _definitely_ going to have to talk to Gaius about a potion for sorting out her proneness to accidents.

Sitting up, Merlin ignored her aching head and joints, and began collecting the pieces of armour. When she stood, the armour a little blemished but perfectly sound, she became aware of Arthur standing over her, arms folded; blue eyes torn between utter exasperation and a smidgeon of concern.

"Honestly, sire," Merlin tutted reproachfully. "This is _precisely_ why you should put on your armour beforehand! It's hardly _my_ fault I have balance issues."

Arthur chased her all the way to the training grounds, yelling insults all the way.

* * *

Once the Pendragon Prat was armoured up and off sparring with Sir Leon, Gwaine bounded over to say hello.

She couldn't stop the effortless grin that formed as he sprawled easily next to her on the grass.

"Hey, Gwaine."

"Merlin!" He grinned. "I think we all heard your little tumble earlier. Arthur's certainly been learning more insults."

"We should congratulate him. It's not often he bothers to remember long words." Gwaine chuckled. Raising a handsome eyebrow, he tapped her forehead. Merlin hid a wince. Her head still hurt from her fall.

"You have quite a bump there. What distracted you from the Staircase of Potential Injury?"

Merlin snorted.

"Nothing. Just thinking."

"And you know how dangerous that is for you." Gwaine lectured her seriously. She snorted.

"Merlin!" Looking up, she saw Percival join them. He shot her a friendly smile; sleeveless chainmail glinting.

"Hey there, Percy. Beaten the crap out of anyone today?" He shook his head.

"No; but I can always have a go at Arthur if you want. We all heard him yelling after you fell down the steps in the courtyard." Merlin rolled her eyes.

"By all means, please do. I may have made my peace with my balance issues a long time ago, but the clot uses any excuse to grumble at me." Gwaine's smile widened evilly.

"Ooh, go on, Percy, beat His Majesty up, please please please."

"We'll watch and provide running commentary," Merlin offered. Percival pretended to think about it.

_It seems I caused you quite a fall, Emrys._

Merlin stiffened, the warmth of the company of her knightly friends draining out of her as that velvet voice echoed into her thoughts. She shifted her gaze further up the training field, to where Elyan and the telepathic druid were observing Leon and Arthur spar.

Mordred looked quite the perfect knight in his glinting chainmail and royal red cloak, the Pendragon crest proudly splayed on his shoulder. His curly, ebony hair looked slightly askew in the light afternoon breeze; his creamy pale skin casting him as the picture of innocence. A new knight awed by the world he know stood in, and the king he showed utter devotion for.

His gaze moved from King Arthur and Mordred's eyes locked suddenly with hers.

They were like two pools of frosty, sea green ice; the green fire locked within a glacier. And yet they were deep; both soulful and guarded, and tinged with lapis darkness, and that serious solemnity Mordred had always possessed.

_Will you not talk to me, Emrys? _He asked, the lilt in his tone tinged with hope. Merlin found she was unable to tear away from his gaze; the air crackling and pulsing with their magic. But she said nothing.

_Emrys... _Mordred wheedled once more. _Can we not be friends? It must be incredibly lonely for you, with no one to trust. Who else in this kingdom knows of your gifts? _

Gaius, she thought at once, but bit down on her tongue. Merlin didn't reply.

_You fear me, Emrys, and I don't understand why. Perhaps if you told me, we could still be friends?_

Why was he so obsessed with becoming friends? This man was destined to kill Arthur; the man her whole destiny and her existence depended upon!

Mordred arched an eyebrow minutely at the distrust and turmoil in her eyes.

_What is it, Emrys? _

_I'm not playing any of your childish games, Mordred._ Merlin snapped back, before realising her mistake. Mordred's glacier green eyes widened, and the tiniest grin tugged at his dusty pink lips.

_Well, hello there Emrys. It seems I finally got you talking._

She glared and tore her eyes from his, turning instead to Gwaine and Percival. The two were discussing their next prank on the kitchens.

"You do realise if we're caught, Cook will complain again to Guinevere?" Percival warned, and Gwaine waved him off.

"Nonsense! Not when Merlin here can be our sneaky little decoy again," he threw an arm around her shoulders, and she couldn't help but grin.

"Only if I get a share of the spoils."

_Now who's being childish, Emrys?_ Mordred called, amused at her blatant ignoring of him. He was baiting her once more. She felt silly for replying to him; now he had gotten her to react, Mordred was never going to stop.

Well. If he thought she was being childish...

Merlin rubbed at her eyes, her fingers masking the sudden gold that blazed from them. When she opened her eyes again, Mordred was on the ground, stunned.

She stifled a laugh.

Gwaine sniggered loudly at the sight.

"Oh dear, Sir Mordred has tripped over his brand new cloak. What a shame." She bit her lip to stifle a grin. As one of her closest friends, Gwaine had at once picked up on her frostiness towards Mordred on the journey back to Camelot. But instead of questioning her distance, he surprised Merlin by siding with her and responding in kind, not once asking why they suddenly didn't like Mordred, the man who had saved Arthur's life.

It was rather touching.

Elyan helped Mordred up; the newest knight ducking his head and blushing a little, stammering apologies for his clumsiness.

_Emrys_, he grumbled, his voice slightly amused and filled with utter disbelief that she had used her magic right there with the knights all around them. _That wasn't funny._

"_Merlin_!" Looking in the direction of the clot destined to rule Albion, she saw him glaring in her direction. Sighing, Merlin stood up, brushing the grass from her breeches.

_Emrys_, Mordred called again, this time a shadow of disappointment laced into his tone. She ignored him.

"Sorry boys, I've gotta go," she grinned briefly at Gwaine and Percival. "His Royal Pratness needs me to lug around his shiny pretty armour for him, since he has no idea where in his big castle it actually lives."

Gwaine saluted her lazily.

"We'll see you later. Don't forget our latest quest to ransack the kitchens!"

"Wouldn't dream of it," she called over her shoulder, walking over to where Arthur was waiting. Leon had gone over to join Elyan and Mordred; as usual, the picture of innocence.

"I hope you're not thinking of aiding Sirs Gwaine and Percival with their usual antics, _Merlin_," he warned, as she slipped around to take his sword and shield to the rack of weaponry.

"Me? A prankster? Arthur, have you _seen_ me walk? I couldn't walk through Camelot without falling over at least five times a day if I tried." Arthur seemed amused as he joined her.

"Too true, Merlin. Ah, hello, Mordred. Are you alright?"

Glancing back, Merlin saw the druid approaching them, his red cloak folded over his arms. He looked mortified.

"Yes, sire. I apologise for my clumsiness." Arthur waved him off with a smile.

"It's nothing. Everyone has their moments. Where are you off to?"

"I was going to take this to the laundry-maids, sire," Mordred held up his cloak sheepishly. "It wouldn't do to walk around with a cloak covered in grass stains."

"But you've barely started your training," the king looked disappointed. Merlin started taking his armour off. She blanched, however, when Arthur's triumphant I've-got-a-plan-that'll-annoy-Merlin look appeared on his face.

"Oh no, I know that look," she groaned, just as he took the cloak off Mordred and handed it to her with a grin.

"_Merlin_. Since you'll be stuck with nothing to occupy yourself with after you've polished my boots, my armour and tidied my chambers, why don't _you_ wash it?"

Merlin glared at him, before fixing her best fake smile onto her face.

"Of course sire. Anything you say, sire. Will that be all, sire?"

"Oh no," Arthur smirked. "After that you can muck out my horses." With that, he dragged Mordred back towards the other knights.

Seething, she picked up the cloak and the armour, and started off back towards the castle. So much for having a relatively calm afternoon.

* * *

Merlin wandered back into Arthur's chambers, exhausted. She set down his evening meal on the table, just as the evening bell tolled outside. The sun was setting magnificently over the hills.

She cast her eyes over the gleaming stack of armour and boots, the relatively immaculate chambers, and was about to breathe a sigh of relief when her eyes fell on the grass-marked cloak, hanging innocently on a chair.

Drat.

Merlin started when she heard footsteps out in the corridor, and Arthur talking with a guard about patrols. Quickly, she held out her hand.

"_Fordwin wamm_."

The grass stains melted effortlessly from the blood-red material, just as the door opened. Merlin whirled as Arthur walked in, frowning slightly at her all-too-innocent expression.

"Why have you got that look on your face?" She blinked.

"What look?"

"That look you always have on your face when you're trying and failing miserably to hide something."

Merlin raised an eyebrow.

"Arthur, please. I think you might be getting a little paranoid. Sit down and eat your dinner." He shook his head, shutting the door and moving over to the table.

Arthur stared at Mordred's clean cloak.

"How on earth did you get the stains out of that so quickly?" Merlin's expression turned flat as she threw it at him.

"I'm a genius, Arthur. It's touching that you hold such faith in me." He raised an eyebrow, folding Mordred's cloak and hanging it on the back of a chair.

"Merlin, forgive me if I severely doubt that you are a genius."

"Fine. The laundry-maids owe me a favour." She moved to set out his evening meal. Arthur sank into his chair, watching her with a strange look in his eye. "What is it, prat?"

"Do you not like Sir Mordred?"

She tripped.

Merlin caught herself just in time, and lowered the platter of food onto the table. The king's expression held triumph. "I'm right, aren't I?"

She sniggered, pouring wine into his goblet.

"We should celebrate. I'll go get Gwen. It's not often our beloved king actually makes use of the little intelligence he has."

Arthur choked, and then glared at her playfully.

"You think you're so funny, don't you, Merlin?"

"Wrong, sire," Merlin chirped. "I know I'm funny." He shot her a look.

"Now don't get smart with me, _Merlin_ – " Arthur stopped. "You're distracting me."

"No I'm not."

"Yes you are."

"Arthur, really, I'm not."

"I am the king of Camelot, you cannot fool me." She was unable to stop the despairing glance she shot him. _Really?_ Arthur was probably _the_ most oblivious bloke she had ever met. What with Agravaine, Morgana, her utter ease at hiding her magic... the list was extensive.

"The point is,_ Merlin_," he grumbled at her, "is that Mordred is loyal. He has proven that. Why don't you trust him?"

Merlin sighed. Trust Arthur to try and get her to open up about her concerns about Mordred's allegiance. "Look, Merlin," the king went on, sipping his wine, "I understand that when we first met Mordred, his druid heritage put his life, and ours, at risk from my father. You don't need to feel you have to distance yourself from him anymore. Why don't you try inviting him to spend time with you and the knights? Doesn't he deserve to be reintroduced to Camelot – one where he no longer has to live in fear?"

She leaned on the back of one of the chairs, gathering her thoughts.

Oh, Arthur.

At least he had no reason to believe her suspicions were far darker. He just thought she was still wary about helping Mordred since the last time she had tried to do so she had risked execution. A small part of her ached inside. Did Arthur really think her that shallow? That it was just a matter of self preservation?

"Merlin? Idiot? Moron?" Blinking out of her thoughts, she shot her king a dry look.

"Your vocabulary of insults is astounding, sire. Perhaps you should compile a dictionary." At Arthur's un-impressed glare, she relented. "Fine. I was a bit wary, what with him looking to be on Morgana's side before he saved you."

Arthur relaxed.

"Well, that's understandable. But you'll stop being unwelcoming?" She rolled her eyes.

"Fine, yes, I will be welcoming." But screw Arthur if he thought this meant she was going to be all smiles and snark towards Mordred from now on.

The king seemed appeased.

"Good. I'm glad we sorted that out."  
"Do you need anything else, sire?"

"No, I don't think so. Oh – return this to Mordred, would you?" His grin was wicked. Merlin glared at him, before snatching up the dratted cloak and striding from Arthur's chambers.

* * *

As she meandered through the corridors of the castle, Merlin passed a few nobles. They shot her looks of disdain and stoic disapproval as she strode passed them, chin up defiantly.

Once she rounded a corner, Merlin suppressed a sigh. There was just no pleasing some people. After roughly eight years as Arthur's maidservant, she _still_ had to deal with nobles and courtiers who disapproved of her position. A woman, serving the king? In his _chambers_?

As if that wasn't enough, they always had a bone to pick with her about her clothes. All her life, Merlin had refused to wear dresses. She had never worn one, and never would. Skirts just got in the way, and while some dresses certainly were gorgeous (especially the one she had pinched for Freya, all those years ago), Merlin could never be bothered with them. Instead, she wore tight breeches and tough leather boots that almost reached her knee, a dark blue shirt and a jacket, and her favourite, deep Camelot-red neckerchief.

Her hair was always messy and curly; the dark, raven-black tresses just shoulder-length. She had never liked having really long hair, and so preferred to keep it fairly short.

Her thoughts were interrupted as she arrived in the armoury. And there they were; Percival and Gwaine giggling like children over their latest adventure, Elyan sharpening his trusty dagger on the floor while rolling his eyes, Leon retelling an exploit or two while methodically checking over his armour. And... Mordred. Drinking in the men around him with wide eyes, looking unsure what he himself should be doing. The youngest knight in the room seemed torn between wanting to soak up all Sir Leon's knowledge and experience or laughing with the twins of pranking on the bench.

Merlin huffed a sigh.

"Evening, gents." All heads snapped up to appraise her.

"Merlin!"

"Good evening, Merlin."

_Emrys!_

Sod it. Why did the destined king-killer have to look like she'd just brought yuletide six months early? Damn him.

She tossed him the cloak, hopping neatly over Elyan's stretched out legs to reach her brother from another mother. The young knight fumbled with it, folding it carefully.

"Thank you, Merlin." She shrugged, and spared Gwaine a grin.

"No problem. And what might you be plotting on this fine night, good sir?" The knight flipped his bangs incredulously as she dropped to sit next to him on the bench. Slapped an offended palm to his chest.

"Why, fair maiden, you wound me with such words! Why would a noble knight such as myself have to resort to such wickedness?" She snorted and levelled him with a flat stare.

"Cut the crap, Gwaine." Elyan choked on his laughter. Beside the affronted knight, Percival looked the picture of innocence.

"We have no idea what you mean, Merlin."

"Sure you don't." Gwaine slung an arm over her shoulder.

"Cease this arguing, ladies. Let's go do something far more agreeable – like drinking! To the tavern!" He hauled her to her feet.

"To the tavern!"

Merlin found herself swept along as the gang departed into the cooler, castle corridor. She dug in her heels.

"_Oh_ no, I am _not_ going anywhere near the tavern." Gwaine turned to pout at her.

"But _why_? You're my drinking buddy!" Percival shot him a look.

"I thought I was your drinking buddy?"

"_Everyone _is Gwaine's drinking buddy," Elyan shook his head, and Leon chuckled. The knight grinned and ruffled her hair.

"Nah, sorry friends, but Merlin trumps you all. First drinking buddy I ever had." They snorted at the memory.

During his first week in Camelot, several years ago now, Gwaine had coerced her into a drinking contest down at the dratted tavern. Surprisingly, Merlin had won. She suspected her magic prevented her from getting truly drunk, but it had been admittedly hilarious to watch Gwaine stare at her collection of empty tankards and the unconcerned expression on her face.

Arthur had not been impressed.

No, seriously. Almost smashed the daylights out of the rogue for subjecting little sister Merlin to the evils of alcohol. However, Gwaine's decency was restored in the then prince's eyes as he singlehandedly beat up a group of drunks who had been leering and made a swipe at her as Arthur had escorted her out of the rowdy bar.

That had been the second time someone other than Arthur had defended her with such fierce protectiveness. Though the king would never admit it, there was a closeness to them that had developed over the years; and it lay unspoken but true between them now that he would always be the protective older brother she'd never had. And what had, in Arthur's eyes, solidified the pure hearts of his original Knights of the Round Table was the way they too looked after her as the younger sister of the group.

Now, she shook her head and smothered her grin.

"Yeah, I may be able to drink you under the table, but _seriously_. Arthur will kill me if he hears I'm at the tavern. You know he will." Elyan and Gwaine both looked hilariously disappointed.

"More like he'll kill any male in a three mile radius," Percival muttered, and Mordred blinked, startled.

"He would?"

"True," Merlin agreed, and stepped away. She saluted the gang. "Do give me the juicy details, though. And let me know if Gwaine starts singing nursery rhymes again." They snickered.

"Night, Merlin."

"See you tomorrow!"

_Goodnight, Emrys._

She parted from the knights, and shook off a rueful chuckle. Older brothers. Insane but irreplaceable.

And then there was Mordred. _And then there was Mordred._

It was dark by the time she reached Gaius' chambers. As she closed the door behind her, her guardian was just laying two bowls of steaming soup on the table. Hunger gnawed through her; having not eaten since near dawn that morning, she wasted no time in sitting herself down and helping herself to a hunk of bread.

Concerns about Mordred and destiny could wait. All she wanted now was a full stomach and to fall into bed.

"G'night, Gaius," she yawned, moving towards her room.

"Merlin?"

"Yes Gaius?" she whirled. He raised the eyebrow of doom at her.

"When were you planning on explaining that impressive bump on your forehead?" Merlin winced, and lowered her eyes sheepishly.

"I, uh... I fell down some stairs."

The Court Physician raised his eyes to the heavens.

"It's a miracle you always seem fit to defend Camelot, Merlin, what with those two left feet of yours. Here, rub some of this on it," he passed her a small jar. "It should keep the swelling down."

She grinned.

"Thanks, Gaius." He shook his head at her.

"And perhaps you should focus _less_ on Mordred's allegiance and _more_ on your sense of balance?" She ducked her head.

"Yes, Gaius." He sighed.

"I do not understand your need to stir trouble, sometimes, my girl. He seems to be a perfectly nice boy, and loyal to Camelot. Yet you'd think he was plotting our downfall and ascending the throne himself, the way you hold yourself around him." Rolling her eyes, Merlin shook her head at the familiar argument and climbed the steps to her room.  
"Goodnight, Gaius."

Yet once the door was shut, she found herself glaring down at her bed. All sleep and hope of rest had vanished at the words of her guardian. Her mind still ticked. Still twisted and tried to reason.

A headache was brewing, and _not_ because of her tumble that morning.

She found herself waiting for Gaius to settle in for bed. Set down the jar of salve. Merlin ground her teeth.

Not even Gaius was on her side.

Merlin was furious. Not caring about the time, she snuck out of Gaius' chambers and through the castle, down to the secret gate she used to sneak out of the city at times like this.

She had just reached the cover of the woods when someone discovered her midnight wandering.

_Emrys?_

Great. Anyone but him. Please.

She kept going, determined to put some distance between her and Camelot before the Dragonlord within her struggled free and roared to the skies.

_Emrys? _Mordred sounded urgent. Almost... worried?

Merlin began to jog.

_Emrys, where are you going?_

_For once in your life, leave me alone!_ She snapped, irritated and frustrated, groaning with the turmoil and the confusion that was her life. Merlin began to sprint, and at last, she threw back her head and power surged through her.

"_O drakon, e mala soi ftengometh tesd'hup anankes! Erkheo_!"

She reached the immense clearing in plenty of time, the grass dewy and glinting like emeralds under the moonlit, inky skies. She sat down and simply breathed in the air for a while, forcing herself to try and calm down before her dragon-kin arrived.

She felt the shiver of magic long before the great clap of his wing-beats reached her ears. At last, when the Great Dragon wheeled into view and circled down to land before her, Merlin tilted her head back and watched as the glistening, golden dragon furled silvery grey wings thin as gossamer.

Kilgharrah lowered his mighty head, and blinked his molten amber eyes.

"We meet again, young warlock. What threat plagues Camelot and the destiny you have protected for so long, this time?"

All her frustration and everything that had happened came rushing back. Angered, Merlin leapt to her feet and began to pace. Sensing his Dragonlord's conflicting, snarling emotions through their brother-bond, Kilgharrah rumbled, deep within his scaly chest. His spiked tail quivered. "What troubles you, young warlock?"

And in the back of her head, she heard Mordred's hesitant call.

_...Emrys?_

It all came bursting out.

"It's Mordred!" Merlin yelled, pacing still. "He's back, he's a threat, he's the person I saw killing Arthur in the vision, he's promised to keep my magic safe, and then he goes and stabs Morgana in the back and saves Arthur, and now he's a bloody knight of Camelot and Arthur trusts him and I don't know what to do!"

Kilgharrah blinked.

Merlin ran her hands through her scruffy hair, trembling with frustration. "Arthur wants me to trust him, Gwaine's on my side, the knights think he's adorable, Gwen thinks he's the son she never had, Gaius thinks I should give him a second chance, _you_ want me to kill him and _Mordred_ wants to be my friend!"

She kicked the ground, furiously. Before her, the glittering dragon breathed deeply, smoke pluming from his nostrils. His eyes blazed.

Merlin sighed, all her rage spent. "I just don't know what to _do_," she moaned.

After what seemed an age, the Great Dragon growled and lifted his majestic, horned head.

"I do not blame you, young warlock," Kilgharrah eventually mused. "You have a talent for placing yourself in the most complex of situations."

"Kilgharrah, I came here for some decent advice, not riddles, since right now you're the only one on my side." He snorted, and sparks of flame filled the air.

"Time and time again I have given you advice, Merlin, and yet you constantly choose to act against whatever I suggest. I see no reason to continue wasting my breath." She looked up at him.

"Look, I know I've made mistakes in the past, but... that's a part of life. Kilgharrah, you know I listen to your advice. I may not always agree with it, or understand it, but... you've always been there to help me. Please don't stop now."

Kilgharrah sighed, a deep, resonating hum that blew through the cool clearing. His glowing, glorious eyes settled on hers.

"Young warlock, forgive me. At times it is hard for me to forget the mischievous, inexperienced fledgling that arrived in Camelot years ago. You have grown into something both glorious and intelligent – and your own wisdom is clear even to me. I see before me, more than ever before, the warlock who will unite Albion at the side of the Once and Future King."

Merlin smiled a little. Such a compliment from her dragon-kin meant a lot. But soon her smile faded.

"Kilgharrah, what do I do about Mordred?"

The Great Dragon snarled.

"I shall not berate you for events long past, Merlin, for there is no point. The witch child is dangerous. But his betrayal to Morgana puzzles me. Ancient prophecies have long dictated that Mordred and Morgana are to form an alliance of evil. And yet it appears not so." She frowned.

"Is it possible the prophecies were wrong?" Kilgharrah chuckled, shaking his great head.

"No, young warlock, I'm afraid not. There is a bond between the witch and the druid boy that will never be broken. But whether he will ever turn back to her, is a mystery. He saved Arthur's life?"

"Yes," Merlin replied, in a slightly dazed voice. "He stabbed Morgana in the back. Literally."

"How poetic," Kilgharrah mused, intrigued.

"But I still don't understand why he would save Arthur, if he's going to kill him one day!"

"The future is not fixed, young warlock."

"Yes," she sighed. "I know." There was an odd sort of silence.

"The witch child wishes to be your friend, you say?" He asked at last, flexing his long tail, and she nodded.

"Yes. He won't stop pestering me. He's promised that my secret is safe with him, as well – I just don't get him! The last time we met, I tried to kill him! And Kilgharrah, if you'd seen the look on his face then... 'I will never forgive, Emrys, and I will never forget.' That's what he told me."

"It seems we have an intriguing dilemma on our hands, young warlock," the dragon replied. "The prophesised murderer of the Once and Future King, knighted by Arthur himself and vying for the attentions of the greatest warlock the world has ever known... I will say this, Merlin. There is a possibility this is a chance – a slim chance for you to alter destiny's course forever. Take it."

Merlin frowned up at him, puzzled.

"I... don't understand." Kilgharrah leaned closer.

"There is a saying, young warlock – 'Keep your friends close, and your enemies closer.' But if Mordred offers you the hand of friendship, you can do no harm in taking it. Perhaps, you may yet sway him from his course." She stalled.

"You think I can stop him from killing Arthur?" He smiled draconically.

"Only time will tell, young warlock. But if you abandon him for a third time, the druid boy may well turn back to his alliance with the witch, and Arthur's doom will be certain. Is that a risk you are willing to take?"

Merlin bit her lip, and shook her head, thinking back to the cold castle in Ismere. She thought of Mordred returning there, back into the comforting arms of Morgana, Morgana with her stone throne and black furs and the rake-thin, sickly pale husk of a white dragon...

Aithusa!

"I saw Aithusa in Ismere," she said. Kilgharrah's eyes blazed at the news, and he flicked his tail.

"Is the little one well?" Merlin swallowed.

"_She can't speak_. I don't know what's happened to her, Kilgharrah... she's thin and pale and won't say a word – when exactly were you planning on telling me she had wandered off?" His upper lip curled, a warning growl filtering through rows of long fangs.

"Do not presume to tell me how to raise one of my own kind, young warlock. You may be on your way to fulfilling your destiny, but you still have much to learn and far to go. Dragons are as wild as the earth itself, and must roam as free as the wind. Once Aithusa's first summer passed, she and I parted ways, as is custom among our kind." Merlin stared.

"But Morgana's on the loose! She's obviously done something to Aithusa, and when I found her, she wouldn't even trust me! I could see it in her eyes! I'm a Dragonlord, and she looked at me like I was her jailer."

Kilgharrah's eyes turned inexplicably sad.

"A dragon who does not love the Dragonlord who Called her... I fear Aithusa is no longer the light that bodes well for Albion. If she has chosen to side with the witch, as I fear she has, then the light we wished for may well turn to darkness." Merlin folded her arms.

"Meaning?"

"You would do well to watch over Arthur closely; if Aithusa turns to darkness, then she will not hesitate to do Morgana's bidding."

"And what about the Diamair?" Kilgharrah blinked.

"What of it? Did the Euchdag impart to you a fragment of the all-knowledge?"

"After Mordred betrayed Morgana, the Diamair healed me. It told me... it told me that Arthur's Bane is himself."

The dragon blew out a long stream of smoke, thinking deeply.

"The Diamair may be right," he agreed eventually. "You shall have to guide Arthur, more so than ever before, young warlock. It may be that one of his hasty decisions may yet bring about his undoing." She frowned.

"Could knighting Mordred be that decision?"

"We cannot know. But do not be so hasty to condemn him. Mordred has yet to betray Arthur."

"I know," Merlin exhaled, scuffing the toes of her boots. "It's just difficult to trust him."

"And with good reason. However, if you succeed, Albion may still be born, and Mordred may be on the side of the light when it does. Only time will tell." Kilgharrah unfurled his wings, looking to the dusty skies briefly. "You were, however, right about one thing, young warlock." Merlin paused.

"Oh?"

Kilgharrah leaned down to peer into her eyes. His great head dwarfed her, as usual. The hot plumes of sooty, smoky breath soothed her. Almost lazily, he winked one fiery eye, burning as brightly as yellow sapphire.

"You were right to say that I am on your side, young warlock. We are kin; I your brother and you my own sister – it is only natural that I should remain on your side until Avalon calls for us both." She smiled.

"Thanks, Kilgharrah. It means a lot."

"Not at all, young warlock. I am your Dragon, and you my Dragonlord." Kilgharrah's eyes turned from fond and amused to solemn. "Albion's time is dawning, Merlin, and Mordred's reappearance is prequel to the chaos to come. I feel time slipping away; it won't be long now, young warlock. You and I will fight for Albion soon."

Merlin stared. Did he mean..?

"Do you mean Arthur will find out? About me? And what do you mean, fight?"

Kilgharrah raised his head, his mighty wings spread wide.

"Aithusa has surfaced, Merlin, and she has sided with Morgana. With a dragon at her side, the witch will attempt to take Camelot and eradicate Emrys and the Once and Future King forever. We must prevent this, Merlin. Whether the Once and Future King learns of your gifts is unimportant. It is Albion's future we must protect."

Kilgharrah leapt for the skies, and was soon lost among the stars, leaving her alone in the dark, chilly clearing.

Merlin remained lost in thought for a long time. It was only when the soft, velvet concern of a druid slipped through into her mind, that she woke from her musings.

_Emrys?_

Sighing, Merlin turned and headed back into the trees, retracing her steps to Camelot.

* * *

**So. Thoughts? **

**I think I have the characters down alright - Percival and Gwaine's bromance is one I really enjoy, and finding fem!Merlin's voice was great fun. She's sassier and quite ballsy. Also, she and Arthur are going to be a kickass brotp in this fic. Though I am a huge Merthur shipper, sadly this story is all about the Merdred. It gives me a chance to explore Arthur and Merlin's relationship on a purely platonic level, which is exciting. Sometimes the best relationships aren't all about the romance. **

**Anyway. Not much of Gwen in this chapter - don't worry, she'll be in it soon. She and Merlin are total bffs. I just love imagining them gossiping and snickering on the side lines of the training field and Arthur sparring while thinking 'shit. SHIT. Wife and little sister are gossiping. Most likely trading embarrassing stories. Shit. Do something manly. Quick - beat Gwaine in a majestic fashion. Aw yeah, nailed it. Are they watching? Are they - shit. They're laughing.'**

**And so on. Might add that in, actually. Anyway. Please read and review!**

**SkyeFurieX**


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